I'm finally back at my desk, which has been refitted for my presence. My phone doesn't work, yet, but on the upside, I now have a big-ass monitor. I think that's an upside. It's kind of scary-huge, hulking on my desk like the severed head of some giant silver robot from the slave army of Hewlett-Packard, whose logo is branded on its shiny forehead.

Yes, you do. Your words entertain me and if I saw you at a bar I sidle on up and go, 'Hey baby, I like the cut of your words!', and then you'd throw your drink in my face and I'd be left crying into the bowl of complimentary peanuts.